I sometimes think that being widowed is God's way of telling you to come off the Pill.
Early morning does not mince words.
There are houses whose souls have passed into the limbo of Time, leaving their bodies in the limbo of London. Such was not quite the condition of Timothy's on the Bayswater Road, for Timothy's soul still had one foot in Timothy Forsyte's body, and Smither kept the atmosphere unchanging, of camphor and port wine and house whose windows are only opened to air it twice a day.
The bicycle. . . has been responsible for more movement in manners and morals than anything since Charles the Second. Under its influence, wholly or in part, have blossomed weekends, strong nerves, strong legs, strong language. . . equality of sex, good digestion and professional occupation - in four words, the emanicipation of women.
It isnot good enough tospend time and ink indescribing the penultimate sensations and physical movements of people getting into a state of rut, we all know them so well.
the biggest tragedy of life is the utter impossibility to change what you have done
A man is the sum of his actions, of what he has done, of what he can do, Nothing else.
My secret? See it, and stay focused on it.
The last 10 to 20 years you’d think that it has been all about VCs making money, because that’s all we hear about. But really it is all about VCs failing and failing to return capital and being f**king idiots. VCs are stupid. They are absolutely stupid. Does anyone want to challenge that statement? Does anyone think that VCs are not stupid?
But I have to say this in defense of humankind: In no matter what era in history, including the Garden of Eden, everybody just got here. And, except for the Garden of Eden, there were already all these games going on that could make you act crazy, even if you weren't crazy to begin with. Some of the crazymaking games going on today are love and hate, liberalism and conservatism, automobiles and credit cards, golf, and girls' basketball.
She said it out loud, the words distributed into a room that was full of cold air and books. Books everywhere! Each wall was armed with overcrowded yet immaculate shelving. It was barely possible to see paintwork. There were all different styles and sizes of lettering on the spines of the black, the red, the gray, the every-colored books. It was one of the most beautiful things Liesel Meminger had ever seen. With wonder, she smiled. That such a room existed!